


That Which You Seek

by thetamehistorian



Series: All Things In Balance [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Child Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aphasia, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Force Training (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Din Djarin, Found Family, Gen, Good Parent Din Djarin, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetamehistorian/pseuds/thetamehistorian
Summary: ... you will find within.On Nova, Din begins to learn how to use the gift within him alongside his adopted son.Then, what was intended to be a simple trading mission leads to an unexpected discovery, and a situation that pushes Din to uncover what he's truly capable of, if only he believes in himself.Sequel to Forces Beyond Our Control
Series: All Things In Balance [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604062
Comments: 52
Kudos: 399





	1. Seeking

**Author's Note:**

> So this was meant to be a quick oneshot, and then I accidentally wrote way too much, so here's the first part. Whoops.  
> This follows on from the Force-Sensitive Din AU of the series and will not make much sense unless you've read the previous work in the series 'Forces Beyond Our Control'.  
> As always, Mando'a translations are on hover and in the end notes.
> 
> I post occassionally on [Tumblr](https://thetamehistorian.tumblr.com/)  
> Catch me hanging out on CoffeeQuill's Discord

The Force, Din decided, was a fickle thing.

On some days, it came to him as easily as it had that day in the ruined Jedi temple. On others, it slipped through his grasp like the bar of soap during one of his recent attempts to bathe Riye.

Riye, it turned out, liked splashing, but he wasn’t so fond of scrubbing. Din had learnt that the hard way and now always had a dry set of clothes on hand.

Saber-work, at least, came easily to him, his years of weapons training and handling helping him pick up the slack and catch up with his peers. Even saber maintenance was something he felt comfortable undertaking.

Then again, he supposed, he had always found it easiest to reach for the Force in the middle of a fight.

Outside of battle however, his progress was frustratingly slow. At least in combat training he was with others his age and Marin did his shielding work solo, much as she had before, but for the other, more delicate and intricate uses of the Force, he was stuck with children. Even Riye was better than him at exercises in levitating stones and manipulating sand.

Whenever he got annoyed Marin liked to remind him that everyone else in the village had been training for years, and that included Riye, whilst he had only been learning formally for a few weeks.

Sometimes he forgot that his son, so small and child-like, was older than him.

“Again.”

He took a deep breath, pushed aside his frustrations as best he could, and focused on the smooth stone in front of him. Today had been going well, comparatively. He’d managed to keep up for the most part, but it was tiring, like stretching muscles he’d never used before, and each time reaching for the Force got a little harder.

It seemed he had finally hit that block.

As the children on either side of him floated their stones, one a little wobbly and one only briefly, he willed his own to rise. Nothing.

Annoyed, tired, angered at his own inability, he reached again, sharper.

The Force responded, but it felt different, somehow, easier to manipulate.

He wondered for a brief moment if he’d cracked it, if this was what Marin meant when she said that to be D'ai was to be one with the Force.

“Enough.”

The command was sharp and directed and the solider in him responded immediately. The world faded back in and the stone, which had been hovering in front of him, dropped heavily to the ground.

He could feel eyes on him, and not in a good way. It wasn’t fear, but it wasn’t approval either.

He didn’t know where he had gone wrong.

As normal, he found Cara in the bar.

She had Riye perched on the table and she was busy playing some variation of catch with him. He could feel Riye’s delight hovering at the back of his mind and he let it seep in, fill him, lighten his load after yet another day of failed attempts.

“Evening, Din,” Cara greeted with a grin.

“Cara,” he said, reaching out to stroke Riye’s ear and sending a pulse of affection through the bond. Now that he knew what the connection between them meant, he used it as much as possible.

They weren’t quite at the stage where they could talk using words. Marin had assured him that the bond was strong, stronger than most in fact, and that words would come in time, when he was more experienced and Riye had developed his vocabulary. For now, he trusted her judgement.

“ _Buir_ , look!” Riye exclaimed out loud, deftly catching the ball that Cara had thrown with the Force, leaving it hovering just above his clawed hand.

“Well done, _ad’ika_ ,” he praised, genuinely happy for his son’s own progress and improved control. “He’s not been any trouble?”

“None at all,” Cara confirmed, “he’s been too busy charming everyone in here.”

Din huffed as he sat down beside them, doing his best to push the events of the day to the back of his mind and focusing instead on enjoying time with his son and his best friend.

Cara lifted the ball, ready to gently throw it again and a sudden thought occurred to Din. There was no reason he couldn’t join in, not anymore.

He did his best to channel that delight Riye was feeling, letting it calm him and he reached, just as the ball left Cara’s hand.

It froze in mid-air, caught between Cara and Riye. The strain of holding it place pulled at him but he held it for as long as possible before letting it, and the hand he had stretched towards it drop.

Cara stared at him in awe.

He had quickly learned that she loved seeing them use the Force, that it never got old for her, no matter how trivial the display.

“Damn, Din,” she said, a smile growing, “you’re getting good at that.”

The praise, small though it was, went much further in restoring his confidence, but really it was Riye’s laugh of joy and the mixture of emotions his son was pushing at him that really did it. There was love, and affection, and happiness, and just the smallest amount of pride broadcasting down the bond.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping Cara understood the sincerity behind the words.

Judging by her nod, the message was understood, then she reached for Riye and pulled him into her lap, practically radiating smugness. “How about we play with your _buir_ , huh, little one?”

“Play! Play _buir_! Pwease!”

How could he resist that? Twin grins faced him as a let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Oh, alright then.”

They played catch into the evening. He relaxed. Each time, reaching for the Force got a little easier.

Maybe he could do this after all.

“How was your day?” he asked, staring up at the stars.

Riye was tucked up in bed in their small house one street over, exhausted by their playtime. Din still didn’t like having him out of his sight. Habits formed over a year on the run were hard to break, but he was getting there. Riye was safe here, he now had protectors far more competent than him.

“Oh, you know, not bad,” Cara replied around a sip of her drink. Din didn’t recognize it but by the smell it was highly alcoholic. “Taught some wrestling to the kids, got my own back on Pe’lak by using him as a demonstration partner.”

“You didn’t,” he said, not that he was overly fond of Pe’lak himself, but they were trying not to make enemies here.

“He’ll be fine, it’s just a few bruises and a knock to the ego,” Cara dismissed his concern. “Not like he hadn’t earned it.” Which was true enough he guessed. “Spent the afternoon helping some of the guys building that new house, the one by the lake.”

Din had been impressed by the speed at which Cara had settled into the community here. She seemed to fit in far better than him, that much was certain. He still got wary, confused looks from those unfamiliar with Mandalorians.

“What about you?” she asked, drawing his thoughts back to the present.

“The usual. Lessons, mainly,” he said. “Bit of work on the farm.”

Cara had been surprised when he’d first asked if he could help on the farm. He didn’t want to admit that he’d spent so long living underground amongst concrete walls that he didn’t mind the hard graft of farm work if it meant he got to spend time outside in the sun, tending to the plants.

Besides, the fields reminded him vaguely of a long-lost home.

“It’s odd,” Cara began after a few minutes of comfortable silence and Din prepared himself for the latest round of her drunken introspection, “how much this place feels like home, y’know?”

Din shifted, uneasy, because Cara was right. He was beginning to think of Marin’s village as home in a way he hadn’t thought of anywhere other than the covert before. It unsettled him slightly, the ease with which they’d fallen into this lifestyle.

Only the other week he’d found his shirts getting a little tight. He’d mentioned it offhand to Cara, wondering if there was something in the washing powder that they used that was shrinking them and she’d given him a strange look.

“No,” she’d said with a worried frown, “you’re just finally putting on some weight.”

The idea hadn’t even occurred to him. He knew he was smaller than most, he had been even as a boy, and life on the run with a baby meant that occasionally, and probably more frequently than he’d like to admit, he’d skipped meals so his son could eat.

For weeks, he’d been having three square meals a day, and with the physical exercise of training and work, he had, to his surprise, bulked up a bit.

Pulling out of his introspection he took a sip of his drink through his straw.

“This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I first left the covert,” he offered when it became clear that Cara wasn’t intending to elaborate.

“Really?” Cara asked.

He shrugged. “Bounty hunters don’t tend to stay in one place long, and then Riye happened and I couldn’t risk staying in one place. You know that better than anyone.” It had been Cara, after all, who had saved them from the hunter on Sorgan.

“Do you think you’ll stay here?”

In all honesty, he didn’t know. He had thought that he’d just stay long enough to learn the basics, only that was taking longer than he’d thought. Some days the pull of life on the move grew so strong he vowed to leave, and some days the urge to stay, to let Riye have a normal childhood, overwhelmed him.

And then there was the covert to think of.

The Armourer’s permission aside, he had an obligation to provide for them, and each day he stayed here was another day he wasn’t fulfilling that obligation.

“Would you stay, if you could?” he asked instead.

Cara shrugged. “It’s nice enough, there are good people here.”

“But,” he said, sensing the unspoken words.

“We’re not built for life like this, Din,” she said. “we both know that. One day the call of the stars will be too much.”

“And if I decide to leave before you do?”

Cara gave him a look as though he was being stupid.

“We’re in this together now Din. Wherever you go, I’ll be there. If you’ll have me.”

Din sat back and let the enormity of that promise wash over him. “You’ll always be welcome,” he said eventually and hoped it was enough.

He’d never been good with words.

The following morning he was up early, mending one of the fences that had fallen with the wind overnight, when someone cleared their throat behind him.

“Good morning, Marin.”

“Din,” she greeted.

He had been expecting a conversation with the enigmatic leader of the D'ai since his odd encounter with the Force the previous day, he had just hoped that she wouldn’t find him quite so quickly.

“It’s about yesterday, isn’t it?”

Marin hummed, crossing her arms as he set down his tools and turned to face her. “In part.”

“I messed up, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t say that,” Marin said, observing him for a long moment. “What happened yesterday merely confirmed a hypothesis of mine. You find it easiest to use the Force when you are experiencing strong feelings or emotions, correct?”

“I suppose,” Din said, it explained the ease in combat, the adrenaline high of a fight feeding the connection, then, “is that a bad thing?”

Marin shrugged. “Not necessarily, so long as you are in control of your emotions and you do not let them control you.”

Din swallowed. There was an implication behind those words. He was reminded suddenly of the haze that had overtaken him on Vlemoth Port, of Riye’s unexpected fear. Had he been drawing on the Force even then? What had Riye drawn him back from?

“You remember what I told you about the balance of the Force?” Marin asked.

“That the D'ai draw upon both the light and the dark,” he replied.

“We do so because to depend on one side other another is dangerous. To embed oneself in the dark is to become enveloped in your own hate, to let it consume you. Put simply, to fall. It is a transformation from which few return. To work solely in the light is to disrupt that balance, tempt the dark, and to risk it becoming out of control.”

“I,” Din hesitated, but figured honesty was the best policy for once, “I think I might have used the dark, before.”

Marin accepted that admission with a nod. “It wouldn’t surprise me. There is darkness in you Din, but I think you know that better than most.” He did, painfully so. “Yet,” Marin continued, “there is light too, and that boy of yours has brought that out in you.”

Din felt his heart lighten a little at that.

“I didn’t use the dark yesterday, did I?” he asked, hesitant and a little afraid.

“No,” Marin said, and he slumped in relief, “but you flirted a little too close for comfort for your instructor.” She frowned, tapped her chin with a finger. “Might I ask, what was it that was upsetting you?”

The question hit hard, and Din was reluctant to answer because that meant facing up to his insecurities, and admitting to someone he had grown to admire that he had, unknowingly or not, let a petty resentment overwhelm him. If that could take him to the edge of darkness, how easily might he fail? He couldn’t afford to risk hurting Riye like that.

Sensing his turmoil, Marin leaned beside him on the repaired fence, watching the village below.

“I am not a mind-reader, Din. I cannot tell what is wrong if you don’t talk to me.” He frowned at her, knowing she was perfectly capable of delving into his thoughts if she so desired, she had done so before during lessons. “I don’t need to read your mind to know what you’re thinking and you’d better stop right now. There are some lines we do not cross, Mandalorian.”

Shame rushed through him. He knew that. Marin had been nothing but courteous, that she would never invade his mind without permission.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quiet that it could barely be heard, but there.

“Walk with me,” she said, standing abruptly.

He followed her to the edge of the forest and for a few minutes they walked along the tree line, with him trailing in her wake, until they reached a spot far enough that they wouldn’t be overheard.

“You asked me once how I got this scar,” she said, gesturing towards the cut through her eyebrow. It was not what he had expected her to say. “The first time I used the Force, I caused a glass to explode. It nearly blinded my sister and left me with this.”

He stared, trying to imagine a young Marin, unable to control the power that she now used so naturally, so effortlessly.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, even though deep down, he knew why.

Instead of responding, she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “When I was older, I nearly dropped a sheet of durasteel on my friend because I lost concentration. I am not without fault, Din, and I won’t judge you for whatever it is that’s eating away at you. I just want to help, if I can. For the sake of your son, and for you.” Her earnestness sunk deep into his soul. “Will you tell me what is wrong now?”

“I,” he started, swallowed, fiddled with a hanging branch, “I’m worried that I’ll never get better, it’s taking so long. That because I’ve spent so long repressing it, that I’ve done permanent damage to the connection or something.”

“Oh, Din,” she said softly, eyes full of sympathy, but not pity, he wasn’t sure he could have managed pity. “That’s not what it is. Please, don’t think that. You’re not broken, or whatever it is you’ve been telling yourself. Mastery of the Force, like mastery of anything, takes time. And none of us are perfect, not even me.”

Din sighed, leant against a tree and felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

“I just want to be able to protect him, and I couldn’t even lift a stone, and it was just, frustrating.”

“I understand,” said Marin, gentle. “You’re more capable than you think.” She reached out and lifted his head, fingers brushing over the beskar of his helmet. “You can lift that stone, I’ve seen you do it, and if you can lift that, then you can lift a mudhorn. You just have to trust in the Force and believe that you can, up here,” she punctuated her point with a tap to the top of his helmet, “and here,” a tap over his heart, “and often, that’s the hardest part.”

Din took a moment to absorb her words, then he reached up and captured her hand in his, rubbing her palm.

“Thank you.”

Mornings on Nova were peaceful. The sun was high enough in the sky to warm him through, but for the most part, the village was still waking up and all you could hear were the birds singing in the trees, the wind rustling through the forest, and your own breathing.

“I did find you for another reason as well,” Marin said, walking beside him back to the main settlement.

“If it’s about Cara’s fight with Pe’lak, I had nothing to do with it.”

Marin laughed, it was a beautiful sound. “No, it’s not that, and to be honest, Pe’lak needed to be knocked down a peg, not that you heard that from me.”

She gave him a stern look and a pointed finger that was about an unintimidating as it got.

“Of course not,” he said, smirking.

“We’ve had a shipment come in with some scrap from an Imp ship. We can’t sell it here and our nearest regular buyer is a few systems away on Malastare,” she explained, “I was wondering if you fancied a trip? Maybe take Cara along so she can stretch her legs.”

Part of him jumped at the idea, at the chance to get back out into the big, bad galaxy and do some good for the people who had sheltered and looked after them. The other part, the part of him that had grown into a father, urged caution.

“What about Riye?”

“He’ll be safe here,” Marin said. “We’ve heard nothing about any hunters. If anything, I’d be worried about you.”

Din wasn’t concerned about himself, and Marin knew him well enough now to understand what he needed.

“I’ll look after him myself, if that would help.”

Din nodded but still, he couldn’t let it go. “If anything happens to him -”

He couldn’t finish, the thought was too painful.

“Din,” Marin said, catching hold of his hands and drawing his attention firmly back to her. “I would lay down my life for Riye, for anyone in this village. You know that. Trust me.”

The Force, usually so silent, sung around him, so clear that he almost startled.

_Trust. Safe. Protection._

And for the second time in his life, he gave everything to the Force.

“Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:
> 
> ad’ika – son / daughter / little one  
> buir - father/mother/parent


	2. Finding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be a simple trading mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so now this thing is three parts. I hope. (Send help).  
> Some more action in this chapter and more Cara, because more Cara makes everything better.

The hum and rattle of the Razor Crest settled into his bones, it was a familiar to him as the grip of his favourite rifle, the taste of _uj'alayi_ , the weight of his armour. The stars streaked past the window as they shot through hyperspace towards the planet of Malastare and, if all went to plan, a lucrative trade deal.

He bounced his leg, unable to settle. The anguish that had built up inside him at leaving Riye behind manifested in a need to do something, anything, to break to the monotony.

Cara lasted longer than he had expected, but got fed up long before they were due to drop out of hyperspace.

“He’ll be fine, you know.”

“I know,” he bit back.

Cara glared, and he regretted the sharpness of his tone immediately. Or at least, he did regret it until she opened her mouth and said the most ridiculous thing that was simultaneously completely wrong and exactly on the mark.

“By the Gods, this is a first day of school thing isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You know, back on Alderaan there was this saying that the hardest part of being a parent was when children go to school for the first time because it was the first stage of letting them go.”

“It’s not that,” he argued, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Yes it is,” Cara said, picking up on his lackluster tone. “That’s exactly what this is. You’ve got separation anxiety.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You’ve got it bad,” Cara was teasing now and he both hated and loved her for it, for how she could read him so easily now, and all without the use of the Force.

“I’m just worried,” he admitted. “What if we didn’t get all of Gideon’s men? What if there’s another one out there looking for him? Or what if -”

“Din, breathe.” Cara cut him off sharply, her hands suddenly on his shoulders. “You’re not going to do yourself or Riye any good by panicking.”

“Sorry,” he said letting the weight of her grip calm him.

“Don’t apologise,” Cara said. “It just shows how much you care about the kid. But before you work yourself into a panic attack, tell me, outside of you and I, who do you trust most to look after Riye?”

“Marin,” he mumbled into his hands.

“Who is looking after Riye right now?”

“Marin.”

“Precisely,” Cara said, slowly settling back into her own seat. “The most powerful Force user we know - and if Riye can lift a mudhorn then who know what she’s capable of - is looking after the kid. She’ll keep him safe.”

“Right,” he said. “Of course. I’m being silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Cara replied, settling back into her chair and shuffling the pack of sabacc cards in her hand, “it’s normal. Annoying, but normal.”

Din huffed but conceded the point, absently tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair before reaching to accept a the last hand of the round from Cara. He had fifteen to her eleven. It wasn’t the best deal he’d had, but he could work with it, assuming he didn’t get a high from the deck, or one of the lower value specials.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Cara said, contemplating her own hand.

“Go ahead.”

“You said that you were raised by Mandalorians, right?” He nodded. “Could you only become a Mandalorian if you were born into a clan or taken in as a child?”

Cara’s interest in Mandalorian culture wasn’t new. She had admitted that before meeting him, she had only seen a few Mandalorians before and had never had the chance to strike up conversation with one, let alone get to know them well enough to ask what many would see as invasion questions. It wasn’t an uncommon experience, after the Purge, there simply weren’t enough Mandalorians left to make encounters frequent.

“Not at all,” he replied, picking up a fresh card and exchanging it for one in his hand. He was lucky, the card hadn’t been too high and he now had a respectable total of twenty-one. “Anyone could be adopted into a tribe at any age, so long as they committed to the _Resol’nare_. We had someone join us as an adult in the covert.”

“ _Resol’nare_?” Cara’s tripped slightly over the unfamiliar word.

“The Six Actions,” he translated. “The basis of Mandalorian life. Armour, language, defending family, helping the clan, raising children in the way, answering to the _Mand’alor_.”

“Huh,” said Cara, drawing a second card from the deck. “That’s not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” He couldn’t deny his own interest in her answer. He so rarely got a glimpse into other’s perception of the Mandalorian way of life.

“Something tougher, I guess, stricter. You guys seemed very secretive down in the covert.”

Din shrugged, standing down his hand face-down to indicate a stand. “That was more out of necessity of survival than any cultural thing. Though from what I understand our clan was a follower of the more traditional ways.”

Cara looked up at him in surprise, eyebrow quirked.

“Traditional?”

“I was raised in a particularly traditional clan,” he explained, pushing through the discomfort of opening up because this was Cara. “I’m told that there were others that interpreted things slightly differently, they disagreed over the rules, there were wars over it. Not that it matters much anymore.”

Now, it was hard enough just surviving. If secrecy ensured that, then secret they would be. He had seen the damage breaking that secrecy could have, had caused it in part, and it was something that he would regret for the rest of his days. Not that he had gone back for Riye, but that doing so had come at such a cost to his brothers and sisters.

“Alright,” Cara said, face a mask as she looked at her cards. “Time to show off that hand big guy.”

He flipped over the cards, revealing his total. Cara began to grin and he began to mourn the loss of his credits.

She showed him her cards and he reluctantly did the maths. Minus twenty-two, the winning hand.

“Kriff.”

“Thank you,” Cara said, sliding the small pile of credits towards her. “All mine.”

They were interrupted by the computer alerting them to their immediate drop out of hyperspace and Cara hurriedly tucked both cards and credits away in her pockets.

In front of them, Malastare burst into view.

Malastare had once been densely covered in forest, but the native Dugs had cleared vast areas to access the valuable fuel beneath the surface. They landed in a small clearing just on the edge of one of the remaining forests, near a small outpost town where Marin had claimed her contact resided.

Armed with a manifest, a small sample of their wares, their usual selection of weapons, and an Amban rifle, they began the trek into town. Din wasn’t taking any risks, he knew that the Dugs had a reputation for being aggressive, so his saber was also hooked onto his belt, concealed by the folds of his cloak.

“Don’t they have pod racing on Malastare?” Cara asked as they approached the cluster of buildings to a few curious looks but no outward hostility.

“Cara,” he said in warning, “no.”

“I wasn’t going to pilot, idiot,” she shot back, turning on the spot to glare at him, “just watch a race or two, maybe make a few bets.”

“We’re here to trade, Cara. Not to get into trouble.” Or lose my hard-earned credits on a stupid wager, he added to himself.

“Alright, alright, no need to get your hair in a twist.” She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Where is this place anyway?”

“Marin said they run a stall selling antiques as a cover, should be fairly easy to spot.”

They scanned the market place they were approaching and could see what Marin meant. The majority of stalls were dedicated to food, scrap, and booze. The few places with decorative wares displayed were fairly easy to pick out.

“Big stall, ten ‘o’clock.”

Din followed Cara’s directions and spotted the place she was indicating.

“That’s it,” he said, recognising the glyphs that Marin had described on the sign. Pulling out the padd, he handed it to Cara. “I’ll cover you.”

“Got it.”

He settled back against a wall, adopting a pose of nonchalance as he looked over the small crowds gathered in the square, but his hand hovered by his holster, ready for action at a moment’s notice. He even brushed against the Force, but nothing seemed to jump out as a threat.

Up ahead, Cara had reached the stall and was busy charming her way into a more private area to negotiate a deal in a manner he could never manage. The retired shock trooper had an easy way with people that he, introverted at the best of times, hadn’t cultivated.

From the corner of his visor, he caught sight of their pre-arranged signal. Success.

A few minutes later Cara returned to his side, something bulky in her bag that hadn’t been there before.

“What?” she asked when she noticed where his attention had drifted. “I thought buying something would be less suspicious.”

Which was a fair point, actually, not that he would admit as much.

“Your credits, I guess.”

The smug smile returned. “That they are,”

As they slowly made their way back out of town, Din was almost disappointed that everything had gone so smoothy. He’d been hoping for a least a little action.

“So,” he began once he was certain they were far enough away to not be overheard, “what’s the plan?”

“He’s going to meet us at the Crest this evening with the credits. We move the cargo into the clearing and he’ll move it into town over the week to stay under the radar. Ten thousand total.”

“Not bad.” It was better than not bad, it was an incredibly good deal. Cara clearly had a knack for bartering and he made a mental note to mention so to Marin.

“Why, thank you.”

They were perhaps half an hour out from the Crest when the Force flared with warning and Din came to an abrupt stop. Behind him, Cara barely managed to avoid walking straight into his back.

“Din?” she whispered.

“Might be trouble,” he replied, hand twitching towards his pistol.

Cara’s head snapped up, eyes flitting around them in search of possible danger. With Cara alert, he attempted to open his mind further to the Force and work out where the warning came from.

He didn’t need to.

To their right, they suddenly heard distant gunshots, but they were far enough away that they couldn’t possibly be aimed at them, and they weren’t heading in the direction of the Razor Crest either so it was likely that whatever the dispute was, it was nothing to do with them.

Cara had evidently reached the same conclusion because she slowly let down her guard again.

“Not our problem, Din.”

“Wait,” he reached out and caught her arm because the Force had flared again, and he realised it wasn’t a warning at all, it was a push, to head towards the danger. It was a cry for help, and the Force was urging him to respond.

“What?”

“It might be worth checking it out.”

“Din, we don’t need to go chasing trouble just because you didn’t get the fight you wanted in town. You’ve got Riye to think of.”

“It’s not that,” he snapped, put on tenterhooks by the tugging of the Force.

Cara’s eyes widened as she finally latched onto the implication of what had her friend acting so out-of-character.

“The Force?” He nodded. “What’s it saying?”

He tilted his head, staring into the trees as though the answer would emerge from them, but nothing happened. This was on him.

“That someone needs our help.”

Cara considered his words, looked in the direction of the Razor Crest and then shrugged, drawing her gun.

“Lead the way.”

Now, Din understood how Riye had been able to lead them to the tiny hut on Dagobah. He followed the pull of the Force through the forest, heading straight towards the sounds of a firefight. But before they could reach the battle, the shots faded away and the forest was filled with an unnatural silence, all the local wildlife scared off by the noise.

“Din?” Cara’s voice was soft in his ear. They had switched to using comms, just in case they got separated.

The tug was still there.

“Keep going,” he said in reply, “but keep your guard up.”

“Of course,” Cara replied, and he could see the barrel of her pistol out of the corner of his eye. “We close?”

“I think so,” he said after a moment of focus on the Force. “I think it’s coming from that structure up ahead.”

“Across the swamp?”

“Marsh,” he correctly absently.

“Sorry,” Cara replied, “that a new one?”

“Yeah, my brain hit a snag whilst reading about Dagobah.”

Cara hummed as they reached the edge of the marsh. Across the small patch of sodden land, they could see a small ruined building in between the trees. His visor was also highlighting a lot of dead bodies. Recently dead.

“That’s definitely the place.”

“Anyone left alive?”

“Not sure.”

“How do you want to do this?”

“Pincer?” he suggested. That way they could at least maintain an element of surprise if they did come across hostiles and one of them was forced to break cover, and they could approach any threat from two sides.

“You got it.”

Near-silent, they began to work their way around opposite edges of the marsh, with Din approaching the entrance to the building and Cara worked her way towards the back where the small battlefield was strewn with bodies.

As they got closer, it became clear that if there were any survivors of the fight, they hadn’t stuck around. There were a few sets of tracks leading away, but his sensors weren’t picking up on any other lifeforms out in the open.

That just left the building, which was presenting its own problems.

It was clear that, at some point during the fight, something had damaged the front of the structure and part of the wall had collapsed, blocking what looked to be the only entrance.

“Anything?” Cara asked over the comms.

“Nothing out here, and the doorway’s blocked.”

“We're too late?”

Judging by the way the Force was still faintly pushing at him, that wasn’t it. Drawing closer to the structure, his sensors finally picked up on something.

“There’s someone alive in there,” he said, faintly surprised that anything had survived the massacre.

“Looks like some of these guys were raiders,” Cara reported from behind the building. “Not sure about the others, but they’re all Twi’leks.”

“Can you see any way in?”

“Not from here,” Cara replied.

Din crouched in front of the rubble, trying to see what was blocking the door. It looked as though one of the concrete pillars holding the roof up had crumbled and fallen. If they had enough leverage, they might be able to lift it enough to get in.

Unless –

“Can you keep an eye out? I want to try something.”

“No problem.”

Holstering his gun, he backed up from the building and ran one more scan, looking for weak points in the concrete slab. The lifeform inside wasn’t moving. They might be hurt. They might be dying.

He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and began to reach.

He felt the Force wrap around him, clear in the way it usually was when he was running on adrenaline, when he found it easiest to use. He focused on the pillar and he willed it to lift.

Sweat broke out immediately. Compared to the small stone of his lessons, the pillar seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, far beyond his capabilities.

Nothing seemed to be happening, and the strain was already getting to him.

Riye can lift a mudhorn, he told himself, and if he can do that, then I can do this.

Marin believes I can do this.

He strained, and stretched, and pushed himself beyond the limits of his experience.

I can do this.

With a groan of brick and metal, the concrete pillar began to move. It startled him, because he hadn’t expected it to actually work, and in his shock he almost lost his grip. It was only his years of combat training that ensured he didn’t lose control. Instead, he forced himself to sink into the calm of a warrior, of a Mandalorian, and kept going, kept reaching, until the concrete was wedged between the wall and another pillar, leaving a gap just large enough to squeeze through.

With his vision beginning to dim, he finally let go. It would have to be enough. The pillar settled with a rumble, but it held.

Releasing a trembling breath, he dropped to all fours, digging his fingers into the dirt to ground himself as he dragged in shaking breaths and let the strain fade away.

Then the breaths turned ragged and he left laughter building up, hysterical, disbelieving laughter.

“Din?” Cara’s voice was sharp and concerned.

“I’m ok,” he gasped out between giggles, “I’m ok.”

“Not sure I believe you buddy,” Cara replied.

“Not sure you’ll believe what I just did,” he replied, feeling the hysteria slowly ebbing away to be replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion.

“You’re not making much sense.”

“Let’s just say it was a lot bigger than a stone.”

He gave Cara a moment to work through the statement, and he knew she had worked it out when his comm crackled with an awed exclamation.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, pushing himself back up now that he no longer seemed on the edge of passing out. “Just tired.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he said. “And the good news is, I think I can get inside.”

Pistol at the ready, he edged his way through the small opened he had created, being careful not to disturb anything that might bring the whole structure crashing down.

Outside, Cara was patrolling, keeping watch in case any of the raiders decided to come back.

Finally, he stepped into an open space and his torch illuminated the crumbled walls and lose debris and, in the corner, the small lifeform that his sensors had been picking up on, flinching away from him. Lekku twitching.

It was a chid.

A small, Twi’lek child, blue skinned under the layer of dust, cheeks streaked with tears. Even as he stood and watched, struck dumb by the sight, fresh tears trailed down the child’s face.

Slowly, broadcasting his movements, he lowered his weapon and returned it to its holster.

“Hey there,” he said as softly as he could manage. The Force pulsed faintly at the back of his mind, muted now. “Are you hurt?”

“Din?” Cara asked in his ear.

“It’s ok,” he replied, still keeping his voice low, “it’s just a child. Twi’lek.”

“A child?” Cara asked. “Fuck. The guys out here must have been protecting them from the raiders.”

Carefully, Din began to advance towards the kid, crouched low to minimize the height difference between them.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, quietly, holding out a hand towards them. “I’m not one of them. I promise.”

The child sniffled, frantically rubbing away tears with their sleeve, but they weren’t shying away from him anymore.

“They were here for me. They wanted me.”

Din felt his heart sink as the kid spoke. The voice was too high to be a boy at the age, and he knew better than most what people sought out female Twi’leks for. He didn’t even want to consider what might have happened to the girl if the raiders had got to her, what sort of life she might have been forced into.

“It’s ok,” he soothed, close enough now that he could reach out and touch her, but he held back and waited for her to initiate contact. “They’re gone, they can’t get to you anymore.”

“They wanted me,” she said again, finally looking at him with watering eyes.

“Din,” Cara’s tone of voice set him right back on edge, and her next words set his pulse racing. “Some of these raiders, they weren’t killed in the firefight. It's, it's impossible. I think they were killed by someone like you.”

“They wanted me,” the girl in front of him repeated, so quiet he barely heard it.

And just like that, another possibility popped into his mind and he understood, suddenly, why the Force had been so insistent.

If he was right –

Tentative, he fell back into the Force, opening his mind and reaching in a way that Marin had only just begun to teach him. Across from him, the girl gasped, eyes widening as she suddenly straightened and leant forward and reached for his outstretched hand.

As their fingers met, he felt the faintest brush of another Force presence against his own and in the Force, the little girl shone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:
> 
> Mand’alor – sole ruler (leader of the Mandalorian people)  
> Resol'nare - six actions (the six tenets of Mandalorian life, education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader—all help us survive)  
> uj'alayi - a traditional Mandalorian cake, sticky, sweet, spicy, and dense.


	3. Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din looked at the little girls in his arms and wondered if they'd just accidentally become a clan of three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be action. There be fluff. There be feels. Both Din and Cara have moments of dumb.

The first time Din had ever successfully meditated in the Force was also the first time he’d felt what Marin called a ‘Force presence’. It was how she’d been able to identify his own hidden abilities, at that time unused and unacknowledged. She had said that within him, she had sensed potential more than anything else.

Seeing Riye’s Force presence had been overwhelming. He was, by then, used to the mental bond that they shared, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of feeling Riye there, in the Force, so clear and apparent.

It was something he couldn’t explain, there were no words. He couldn’t explain to Cara the brush that translated into light and weight and the knowledge that Riye was so solidly there on a level he had never truly understood before.

Feeling the little girl in front of him was similar.

“Din?” Cara’s voice was distant but panicked enough that it drew him out of the transcendental state of the moment and back into the reality of the crumbling building and dead raiders.

“It’s the kid,” he said quietly. “She’s like me.”

“And she’s not a threat?”

Even the suggestion rubbed him the wrong way, but that was more down to his Mandalorian upbringing and the importance placed upon children than the idea that Cara might be wrong because he was well aware of the threat Force-users could present to the unaware. Even to other Force-users.

He hadn’t sensed a threat in her, though. Her presence didn’t feel wrong in the way Marin’s had the time she had demonstrated what the dark side alone felt like.

“No,” he replied, slowly drawing the child towards him, coaxing her out of the corner. “No, she was just scared.”

Scared and desperate. He knew better than most what that felt like and what it could lead to.

“Well, in that case you’d better get her out of there, I’m not sure how long that thing’s going to stay standing.”

Judging by the creaking and groaning of the structure, Cara was right.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” he said to the girl, who had wiped away most of her tears by now.

“Ok,” she replied quietly, and this time she took a proper hold of his hand and began to pull herself up.

Together, they picked their way across the room, stumbling around debris as they headed for the small gap Din had made. As they moved, parts of the wall finally gave up the battle to stay upright and began to fall. The girl squeaked in fear, flinching away.

“What’s your name, little one?” he asked as he pulled her firmly onwards, hoping to distract her.

“Alema.”

“The people who were with, who were they?”

“My family,” she replied as they reached the gap. She was trembling in his hold now. “They’re dead, aren’t they?” He swallowed, not wanting to be the one to break the news. “I felt it,” she continued, pointing to her head, “up here.”

Kriff.

She must have had bonds, like his bond with Riye. The few minutes that bond had been broken, when Gideon’s men had forced Riye to wear the inhibitor cuff, had been awful. He could only imagine what losing bonds like that would feel like.

He’d have to tread carefully until he could get her to Marin.

In lieu of answering, he chose instead to focus on the immediate problem, getting them out of the building alive.

“Can you squeeze through there?”

“Uh, huh.”

“My friend, Cara, is just outside.”

A shadow fell across the other end of the short tunnel and Cara’s face came into view.

“Hi there, kid.”

Another piece of rubble fell and the whole structure groaned.

“Time to go,” he said, giving her a slight push, but she didn’t need any further encouragement and began to wiggle through the gap.

As soon as she was clear, he moved, hearing the sounds of imminent collapse behind him. He grabbed hold of Cara’s outstretched hand and let her pull him to safety, just in time as, behind him, the concrete column gave way and dropped. If they’d been just a few seconds slower, it would have crushed them.

For a moment, he laid there and breathed as the dust washed over him.

Then a blue lekku twitched into his line of vision.

“Are you alright?” Now that he could see her in the light of day, he realised that Alema was younger than he had thought, six or seven perhaps, and her clothes were worn and dirty.

She made for a heart-breaking sight.

What really caught him was her eyes. He’d seen the look in them before, in foundlings brought back from war zones, in children who had seen things no child should, in his own eyes in the mirror, years ago. Suddenly, he was glad that the bodies of her family were hidden by the now ruined building.

Later, he’d look back and recognise that this was the moment that had settled it for him.

Before he could say anything, his helmet alerted him to approaching lifeforms. Cara noticed them a moment later and pulled him sharply to his feet.

“We gotta go,” she said, aiming her rifle at the treeline where the remaining raiders were now regrouping.

“Yeah,” he said in agreement, taking a few steps backward and indicating that Alema should follow him.

She took one step, made a noise of pain, and dropped to one knee.

Immediately, he was back beside her, checking for injuries. “What’s wrong?”

“My leg hurts,” Alema mumbled somewhere in the vicinity of his elbow where she had tucked herself.

Din thought through his options for a moment and then reached down to pick her up, settling her against his side. Thankfully, she caught on quickly and wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to free a hand to shoot if necessary.

“Cara, can you cover us?”

“I got you.”

He turned and ran, just as the first raiders emerged from the trees and opened fire.

The forests of Malastare were dense and vast.

Din ran with his precious burden held tight, Cara on his tail, in the vague direction of the Razor Crest. If it weren’t for the thick canopy above him, he would be regretting leaving the jetpack behind on the ship, but even that wouldn’t be much use in this environment.

Behind them, slowly but surely, the sounds of pursuit faded away. Either the raiders had given up, or they simply weren’t physically capable of keeping up with their pace and were rethinking their plan.

Din hoped it was the former, but suspected the latter.

Finally drawing to a halt, they caught their breath and Din took a moment to re-orient himself in relation to the Crest. According to the homing beacon, they weren’t that far away, and if they could make it to the ship then they’d have a chance of defending themselves and the cargo they still needed to sell.

“I really hope you’ve got a plan,” Cara gasped out between breaths.

“The Crest,” he replied, pointing in the right direction. “It’s not far and it’s defensible and if we have to, we’ll leave and come back to drop the cargo off later.”

“Better than anything I’ve got,” Cara agreed, straightening.

“You ok?” he asked Alema. He felt her nod against his shoulder. “Then let’s move.”

They set off again, at a brisk walk rather than a run now that their pursuers were far enough away that they wouldn’t be catching up in a hurry and they could risk the slower pace.

“What’s that?”

The hushed voice broke his concentration and Din dropped his gaze from the map and homing beacon on his visor to the child in his arms and found Alema staring at the signet soldered to his pauldron.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he said.

“What’s a mudhorn?”

“It’s an animal,” he explained. “You can’t find them on this planet.”

“Oh,” said the child, running a finger along the edge of the horn. “Why do you have it?”

“It’s the symbol of my clan.” A confused look. “My family.”

“It’s cool.”

Over her head, he exchanged a look with Cara, who looked as bemused as the statement by him, but her quiet curiosity was better than her breaking down or crying, so he’d take it.

Shrugging her a little higher in his hold, he resumed his path, speeding up a little as the trees began to thin and the Razor Crest came into sight.

And abruptly stopped dead, jumping back behind a tree as his visor picked up on more lifeforms gathered by the ship.

“Din,” Cara said.

“I see them.”

Risking a quick glance as they hadn’t been spotted yet, he tried to work out if they were after the ship or if they were the same gang that they were trying to avoid. Judging by the matching sashes, these raiders belonged to the same group that had killed Alema’s family, and there were a lot of them. Din’s display counted fourteen hanging around the Razor Crest.

“It’s the raiders,” he reported, letting his head drop back against the tree. They’d been so close to freedom. “Fourteen, maybe more.”

“What are we going to do now?” Cara said, part a question to herself, part to him.

Fourteen seemed a lot, definitely excessive when you counted those already dead, especially for a little girl. Then again, Din had seen what the Force was capable of. He still didn’t know if they were after her for her sensitivity to the mystical power, rather than the usual reasons people hunted down young female Twi’leks, but either reason disgusted him.

Giving her up was not an option.

“How many rounds in that rifle of yours?”

“Twelve,” Cara said.

“Right,” he shifted his grip so he could hand Alema to his friend, “you take her, keep her hidden, and if you get a shot, you take it.”

“What are you going to do?” Cara’s asked, uncertain.

In response, he held out a hand and reached and, just like that day in the temple, his saber leapt into his grasp. It was perhaps a little dramatic considering it was less than a metre from his belt to his hand, but he wasn’t really in the mood for subtlety.

Alema watched with wide, wonderous, eyes.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Cara asked, catching his arm before he could break cover. “There’s a lot of them.”

“I’ll be fine, you’ve seen what I can do with this thing.”

“Yeah,” Cara replied, “but there’s a lot of them. What if you miss something and they get a hit on you?”

“Cara,” he said, torn between amusement and exasperation. He tapped lightly on his breastplate with his fist. “Beskar, remember?”

Cara had the grace to blush at her slip.

“Whoops?” she offered with a sheepish grin.

“I’ll be fine, you just keep her safe.”

“You got it, Mando,” Cara gave him a cheeky one-handed salute as she bent down to place Alema down. “Go fuck ‘em up.”

“Language,” he chastised under his breath as he stepped out into the clearing.

Judging by the quiet giggle, Alema heard it.

Din had always found working with the Force easiest in combat. Whether it was a measure of his upbringing or a hangover from his first real encounter with it, he didn’t know, but right now, he didn’t care. What mattered was that he didn’t lose focus.

The raiders had visible quailed at the sight of a Mandalorian approaching them, clearly they had not been able to properly identify him during the chase, but had rallied somewhat when one of the Dugs, clearly the leader, stepped forward.

“We don’t want any trouble, Mando,” it said, obviously looking to avoid fighting him. “We just want the girl.”

So, they didn’t think they could take him with any ease. That was good, it gave him an advantage even before he played his trump card.

“No,” he said simply.

The Dug snarled, turning aggressive, reaching for its weapon. “Are you willing to die for her, then?”

Din tilted his head as the visor began marking out the best path of combat for him. He shrugged lightly. “Are you?” he asked.

Then he ignited the saber and all hell broke loose.

If the Dugs thought they might have a chance against a Mandalorian warrior then they definitely weren’t prepared for a Mandalorian with a lightsaber and the Force on his side. The leader fell first, he made sure of that, the blade of golden light slicing through metal and flesh as easily as butter.

With their leader dead, the remaining Dugs floundered. Some, clearly the wiser amongst them, turned and fled. The remaining ten began to hunker into defensive positions, popping up to fire off a shot in his direction, only to be picked off by Cara.

Din broke into a run, heading for the nearest raiders. He leapt over the crude barricade of crates and fallen logs, deflecting some of the blaster bolts with the saber and letting his Beskar armour absorb the rest.

One lucky shot grazed his arm, but he barely noticed it and the offending marksmen lost his head only moments later.

He brought up his visor display again and found that he’d cleared the flank he was on. The remaining four raiders were crouched on the other side of the clearing.

Before he could make a break for their position, they surrendered, having realised that the odds were now against them.

Carefully, Din stood, blade still alight, but none of them took the opportunity to shoot him. He began to cross over towards them and there was a part of him that called out, that wanted to hurt them for what they had tried to do, that wanted to refuse them mercy.

For a second or two, he considered giving into it, right up until the moment he remembered how he had felt when he had lifted the stone in anger. How similar he felt to that now.

How easy it was to go down the wrong path.

“Get out of here,” he called. “before I change my mind.”

They dropped their blasters and fled.

With a sigh, he deactivated his saber and, once he was sure the raiders were gone, slumped down against the nearest crate. The post-battle exhaustion was beginning to seep in, but it wasn’t that which had drained him so much that he could barely stand.

Following the Force, committing not to fall, clearly required strength of character and of will. It was a strength he wasn’t sure he had.

The Crest was quiet when Din woke.

They had spent some time cleaning up after the battle. He had collected Alema from Cara, keeping her head firmly tucked into his neck so that she wouldn’t have to see the bodies and whilst Cara had been employing the contents of his med-pack on Alema’s leg with an almost aggressive enthusiasm, he had dragged the bodies out of the clearing and hidden them in the trees.

When he had stumbled back inside the ship, Cara had taken one look at him and ordered him to bed.

Judging by the light now peeking through the hatch to the cockpit, it was nearing sunset. They’d have to start shifting the cargo soon.

Stretching, feeling several of his vertebrae pop at the movement, he headed for the ladder.

Alema was sat in the captain’s chair, her injured leg propped up on a box, with three sabacc cards spread in her small hands.

“So if I have a high total, I should stand?”

“Up to you,” Cara replied over her own hand. “It’s risky to take another card because it’s more likely to be a high card that will take you over twenty-three.”

“And if you go over twenty-three, you’re out?”

“That’s right.”

“Cara,” he interrupted and they both jumped. “Are you seriously teaching a child to gamble?”

“No,” Cara shot back, though he didn’t miss the wink she sent Alema’s way. “I’m teaching her to play a game.”

“Right,” he said, unconvinced, but to be fair to Cara, he couldn’t see a pile of credits anywhere.

Pulling himself fully into the cockpit, he reached over to the console to check the exact time and as he did so, he snuck a glance at Alema’s hand. Seventeen, two high and the Balance card worth negative eleven. Wordlessly, he drew from the deck, checked the card, and handed it back to her.

A moment later he heard a quiet ‘oh’ and Alema hurriedly discarded one of her high cards and placed them down in a stand.

“Din,” Cara said slowly, “what did you just do?”

“Nothing,” he replied, fighting a grin.

With a groan, Cara slumped back in her chair. “Go on then. What have you got, kid?”

Alema flipped the cards. “Twenty-three.”

“Pure Sabacc.” Din confirmed.

Cara sighed and turned over her own cards, totalling a measly twenty. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Din retorted. “C’mon, we’ve got a pile of scrap to move.”

“You gonna be alright here?” Cara asked Alema as she squeezed past them. Alema nodded brightly, already reaching for the deck with the clear intent of practicing whilst they were busy.

“You’ve created a monster,” she murmured to him at the bottom of the ladder.

“Hardly my fault that she got good cards,” he replied.

Together, they began the process of unloading the parts of the scrapped Imp ship that Marin had entrusted them with. By the time they were done, the sun had set and all that was left was to wait for their buyer.

Alema had fallen asleep up in the cockpit so Din had taken a blanket up, figuring it was better to let her rest than wake her. Sat with Cara, he finally had the chance to ask the question that had been on his mind all day.

“What got you so interested in the Mandalorians earlier?”

“Hmm?” Cara lifted her head from her hand. “Just curious, I guess. I’ve been practically living with you for a few months and I know basically nothing about you or your culture.”

“Not thinking of joining us, then?”

It was a thought that had occurred to him when Cara had initially asked about how one became a Mandalorian, that she might be toying with the idea. There was no doubt that the warrior lifestyle suited her, in some bizarre way, it made sense.

“Not exactly,” she replied, stirring her bowl of soup idly. “I’ve had enough of following rules and orders for a lifetime.”

Din accepted that, just as she accepted what those rules meant to him.

“You’d make a good Mandalorian wife, you know,” he said after a moment.

Cara spat out her mouthful. “What?” she asked, incredulously, whisking around to face him. “Where did that come from?”

He shrugged, enjoying her reaction just a little too much. “Strength and endurance are highly desired traits.”

Cara frowned as she worked through the unexpected compliment then her eyes narrowed properly. Moments later he found himself facing down a spoon-wielding shock trooper.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Cara groaned, dropping her hand. “You know what? I think I liked you better back when you didn’t talk so much.”

He ducked his head, an instinctive move to hide that smile that she couldn’t see.

“Who is this?”

Alema had tucked herself firmly into his shoulder and was doing everything she could to avoid Marin’s eyes. Din was worried that she’d imprinted on him or something because he could barely manage to look after one child, let alone take on another who was older and already traumatized.

He suspected it might be too late for that already.

That Alema was coming back with them to Nova had been a given. He’d asked her, of course, and she’d agreed pretty quickly on the basis that now her family was gone she didn’t really have anywhere else to go. The actual trade had gone smoothly and they’d made good time back to the small moon that had become their temporary home, several thousand credits richer than they had expected.

“This is Alema,” he said, “we found her on Malastare. There was an ambush.” He paused, not wanting to say too much and cause unnecessary hurt. "She was the only survivor."

“I see,” Marin said, eyes softening.

“She’s like us.”

Marin gave him a soft look. It was one he recognized, it tended to appear when he had spectacularly failed to pick up on the obvious.

“Yes,” she said, “I know.”

“How?” he asked, then stopped short. Thought it through. “Oh, right.” The Force.

Marin shook her head at him and turned her attention to the child in his arms.

“Hello Alema, I’m Marin.”

Within a few minutes, she had successfully persuaded Alema out of his arms and had her playing with the other children under the watchful eyes of Saoirse.

“There’s something different about you,” Marin said, leaning against the wall beside him as they watched Alema slowly opening up.

“Is there?”

“I can’t put my finger on it,” she admitted. “You seem more settled than normal.”

He considered her words, then, without speaking, he reached out to the Force and lifted a stone from the ground.

Marin raised an eyebrow.

“I see,” she said. “Have my teachings finally begun to sink in?”

He let the stone drop back to the ground, pulling back from the Force with an ease that he’d not had before. “Let’s just say that compared to several tonnes of concrete, a stone really doesn’t seem that hard anymore.”

He watched as Marin mouthed ‘several tonnes of concrete’ to herself, but she didn’t ask for any more details and he valued her for her tact.

They were momentarily distracted by the child laughing when it occurred to him.

“Where’s Riye?” he asked, not spotting his son amongst the gathered children. He wasn’t too worried because now that he was back on Nova the bond was back to its usual strength and he could feel his son’s faint presence on the other end, as though he were sleeping. Which was odd, because for the most part Riye had outgrown naps.

“Ah,” Marin said succulently. “About that.”

“Marin,” he warned.

“Follow me.”

Din let Marin lead him to her own home and when she pushed aside the curtain to the bedroom he found Riye in the small portable bed he had made for him, fast asleep and absolutely fine. Though it was a little unusual for him to asleep at this time of day.

“He was up most of the night,” Marin said sheepishly, answering the unasked question. “He might have had too much sugar.”

Slowly, Din turned to glare at her. That puts things in perspective. Now he was going to have to deal with a cranky toddler when his son woke up.

Marin held up her hands. “I said I’d look after him, not that I was a good babysitter.” Before he could respond she had made her escape.

Sighing heavily, he began to gather up his son’s scattered toys and tuck them into the pod beside his sleeping form, ready to take home. His son, who was holding a new stuffed toy he didn’t recognise at first. Then realised that he had seen it before. At a market on Malastare.

Cara.

“Your _ba'vodu_ spoils you,” he murmured around the lump in his throat as he brushed a finger lightly over Riye’s ear. His son stirred, turned into the touch, but didn’t wake.

Later that afternoon, with Riye still sleeping off his sugar high and Alema dozing as her own tiredness caught up to her, he sat outside the small house he had claimed as his own in the village and wondered how long he’d really be able to stay.

Now that he’d broken through his first major hurdle in using the Force he felt more confident in leaving Marin’s tuition, but at the same time, he wanted to be able to give Riye and Alema something of a normal childhood, to let them grow up carefree and happy, to give them that which had been taken from him the day the Mandalorians pulled him from the cellar.

He'd been raised in a time of war. They weren’t at war anymore.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a few of the younger children running past. One, he noticed with a pang, had a wooden bucket on their head, a crude t-visor craved into it so they could see.

“Timo, Maeve, get back here!” A women that could only be there mother hurried towards them, caught sight of him, and stopped, suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry Mandalorian, they don’t mean any disrespect.”

He remembered the children of the covert running around with similar props, dressing up in the image of their idols and caretakers in easier times. He thought of Riye, asleep in the hut behind him, and of Alema curled up in his own bunk, Cara in the bar. The beginnings of his own little clan.

“It’s ok,” he said. “No offense taken. I don’t mind. Let them play.”

Far across the fields, in a small clearing, the Razor Crest sat, checked and serviced after its brush with the raiders. On the console, the comm unit received a transmission, and a light began to flash. There was a message waiting, an urgent signal from the only other group with a direct line to the ex-bounty hunter who now owned the ship.

The covert was calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:
> 
> ba'vodu - aunt/uncle


End file.
